


So Close

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Episode: s02e12 A Tale of Two Stans, Gen, Infection, It's real angsty, Stan's Thoughts, Stangst, Suicidal Thoughts, the portal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 01:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10205882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A short story exploring some of Stan's rises and falls during the thirty years it took to get Ford back. Lots of juicy angst.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops. I wrote another fic. Anyway here you go.

_ “I’d lost him.” _

Stan sat in the basement, huddled beneath the monolith, hugging his knees. The tears had long since dried to his cheeks and he no longer noticed the pain from his burn. He’d lost him.

He’d been so close. So close to reuniting with his brother, to making up after ten years of silence and regret and pain, to finally, maybe, getting a home. But then….

_ “Have you come to steal my eyes?” _

_ “I’m selfish? How could you say that to me when you cost me my dream school?” _

_ “I’m giving you a chance to do the first worthwhile thing in your life and you won’t even listen to me!” _

_ “Take this book, get on a boat, and sail as far aways as you can, to the ends of the earth!” _

_ “Stanley, oh my gosh I’m so sorry, are you-!” _

_ “Some brother you turned out to be.” _

_ “Stanley, Stanley, do something!” _

_ “STANFORD!” _

His brother was gone forever, and it was his fault.

Everything he’d said was true, of course. He was selfish, and worthless. He should have listened to Ford. He should have just taken that book and gotten the hell out of there. He shouldn’t have been so... _ selfish. _

But maybe if he got him back...he could make it up to him. All he had to do was...turn it back on. Even though he’d tried every button, every key, every lever. There had to be a way. A code, or a wire, or something.

It would be easy. He was already so close.

* * *

It had been two days since the Accident. Stan tried the lever again and winced. The burn on his shoulder cracked and began to ooze. It was worryingly hot and red there and it wouldn’t heal over, like that scar on his calf from--not important, Ford was important, the portal was important.

Stan shoved on the lever again. It didn’t budge. He swore and kicked at it, only succeeding in stubbing his toe and adding to his aches.

There had to be blueprints somewhere….

The nerd book! His research, or whatever. Stan picked up the Journal and began to read. He was so close.

* * *

_ So close…. _

He was close this time, he was certain of it. A week and a half had passed since the Accident and Stan had read every single page of that book countless times and broken every single code.

He was sweating as he turned the key once more, and icy when he walked over to the lever. Black crept around the edges of his vision as he struggled with the stubborn piece of metal and he almost crumpled from the sudden shooting pain that erupted from his burn--his  _ brand. _ He cursed silently; the injury was infected.

Not important. Just a few adjustments and the portal would be working and Ford would be home for dinner. Or...whatever time it was. Stan hadn’t left the basement in two days. It was just that he was so close.

* * *

It had been three weeks since the Accident and he was out of food. He had to go into town. He managed to hold it together in front of the people as he pretended to be his brother, as he showed them around the house, as they handed him money and told him he was great, he was funny, they’d be back again. And as soon as they left he went back downstairs and began to work on the portal, ignoring the stabbing pain in his shoulder.

He was so close; he couldn’t waste time.

* * *

_ You’re so close. _

He stopped. He put down the gun. He was so close.

He was so close to giving up, so close to ending it, so close to just accepting that Ford wasn’t ever coming home.

But he was  _ so close _ to finding those other books and  _ so close _ to bringing his twin home.

He’d died once already--last week, in a fiery car crash--so dying could wait until Ford was home.

After all, it had only been a month and a half since the Accident. He was so close.

* * *

“Sorry, Ford.”

It had been two months since the Accident. Two months since he’d pushed Ford into the portal. Two months since he’d gotten that awful, awful burn. A month and a half since he’d nearly died from infection.

Stan stood, looking at the disaster that was the house, and then began his work. He moved out a bunch of junk--broken tables, weird triangles wearing top hats, nonsense papers, and useless pieces of tech. Then he set up new tables and placed upon them the cheap taxidermy he’d...repurposed.

He was so close, but he needed the money somehow.

* * *

_ So close, so close, so close. You’re so close, Stanley. You can do this. He’s almost home. He’s alive and he’s out there and you’re gonna bring him home. You’re so close. _

It had been thirty years. Thirty years of working on that damned portal. Thirty years of stress and worry and grief and fury and passion and love and time. Thirty years since the Accident.

Stan finally stood in front of his life’s work, thrumming blue and hot beneath the Mystery Shack. He’d almost died for this thing. He  _ had _ died for this thing.

No--not for this monolith, this metal monster, this triangular  _ demon, _ it was for Stanford. It had always been for Stanford.

And now he was going to get him back. Home for good.

He was so close.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave some kindness in the comments if you liked this and check out my other fics!  
> OR follow me on the tumblr: themindofcc.tumblr.com


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